


Mail Delivery

by Windturtle



Series: Non-Linear Universe [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-23 17:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windturtle/pseuds/Windturtle
Summary: Harry and Draco each receive a letter.





	1. Chapter 1

The morning after the grave announcement, Draco got a letter from his mother with a bundle of clippings attached. She’d clipped every story that she’d found so far on the pair of professors and sent him an article from Witch Weekly that she’d just seen about them. His father had added a note to his mother’s letter saying he was sorry that it had happened, and he hadn’t known the identity of the two wizards until Dumbledore informed the Daily Prophet.

The weather was nice, so Draco took the bundle of papers outside with him to finish his breakfast with Ron and Hermoine so they could all look over all the evidence they had gathered. The three of them settled into the plush grass near the lake, but not too close since the giant squid liked to splash people and it wasn’t warm enough yet to be splashed with freezing lake water.

The first article, the one they’d all seen on the day they’d returned to Hogwarts, noted that one person may have been killed, but they were unsure. 

“I got Percy to give me all the papers he had,” Ron said, proudly, adding his own stack of newspapers to their pile.

Draco picked up the Witch Weekly article. He expected a lot of new facts about the pair of professors, but the article was very thin on details; in fact, most of them Draco already knew. Professor James Evans was from America, educated at the Salem Institute of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and was considered an expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts. All the more ironic that the Dark Lord had killed him, but perhaps not surprising that he’d been involved in the death of a dark wizard.

Cygnus Lefevre, who was named for the stars of his birth rather than for any Cygni Ancestry, was born and raised in France, being educated at Beauxbatons and achieving the Animagus transformation at an incredibly young age. He’d been attacked and maimed by Dark Wizards once in France and then been the target of Riddle’s wizards in England.

Draco had also gotten a letter from his father, replying to the letter he’d sent. Having read it already, he set it down on top of the pile of newspapers, frowning deeply. Hermione picked it up to read it.

“Your dad doesn’t know anything either,” Hermione sighed in conclusion, and handed the letter back to him.

“_Says_ he doesn’t know anything,” Ron corrected. “Someone has _got_ to know _something_!”

Draco took the letter back and folded it carefully, tucking it away in his robe. “We need more clues. We need something.” He picked up one of the newspapers.

There were a few articles about Professors Evans and Lefevre when they were the newest and youngest professors at Hogwarts, then another about how well the two professors taught, a third about how they’d managed to locate a priceless Hogwarts Artifact, and then the last few about their heroic sacrifice.

There were only a few witnesses, two of which were Muggles and had to have their memories removed and then Obliviated, of course. The other three were wizards who’d heard the battle and curses flying and had rushed to see what was happening, assuming that two people had started a duel.

Two of the wizards had gotten there in time to see Professor Lefevre stab Riddle with a basilisk fang. Riddle had then blasted Lefevre, and the two witnesses thought they saw him get stabbed as well. Lefevre had fallen and Evans had gone to help him as Riddle fell to the ground. There was the explosion of a massive spell unwinding and Evans and Lefevre had been pulled up into the air, dropped, but then vanished before returning to the ground.

Riddle was dead when the third wizard arrived. There was no trace of the fang or Evans and Lefevre, other than their brooms, which were found a short distance away in the ruins of one of the old homes, along with a shattered magical ring.

It was Mungo’s that gave the cause of death for Riddle as basilisk venom, but no one seemed to know where Evans or Lefevre had managed to come across that. One article conjectured that Evans had taken a fang with him as a souvenir from America, since there were more wild basilisks there. 

“Are there more in America than here?” Ron asked as he finished his toast.

“Dunno,” Draco said with a shrug.

“We can look that up,” Hermione said, making a note. 

“Seems like an awful strange thing to just carry around,” Ron said.

“It does say they just vanished,” Draco pointed out. A thin tendril of hope curled through him. Nothing said the two professors were dead, just that they had vanished. It lent credence to what Draco and his friends were doing.

“Do you think Professor Evans was tracking down dark wizards?” Hermione mumbled, looking at the newspaper.

“Maybe,” Ron said, looking over the articles again.

“That’s…strange,” Hermione said slowly. “It’s just so strange that they would assume they’re dead.”

“Why not just say they were missing?” Draco said. “Dumbledore said they were dead.”

“And he wouldn’t just say that unless he thought it was true, but…it just seems like everyone jumped to conclusions,” Hermione said and tapped the articles with her finger. A picture of the two professors, Evans glaring and Lefevre looking away, was looping on the page. Draco wondered when it had been taken.

“So, they _are_ missing!” Ron declared.

“What are you two doing?”

They all looked up to see George and Fred Weasley. Draco sank down, trying to hide in the grass, but it was too short to do that, so he eased himself behind Ron. Hermione sat up straighter next to him.

“Reading the papers, go away!” Ron said.

“With Slytherins? With Malfoy no less,” Fred said. “The turkey?”

“Swan! He’s a swan!” Hermione said as Draco bristled, trying to decide if he wanted to risk a hex.

“Leave him alone,” Ron said, and stood up. 

“Oh, about the professors,” George said, leaning over to look at the articles.

“Yeah, that’s interesting, isn’t it? Never thought Lefevre would be involved with that,” Fred said.

“Wondered what you wanted Percy’s papers for,” George said, picking one of them up and then dropping it again. Hermione snatched it up.

“Misters Weasley!” The Ravenclaw prefect was walking towards them.

“Hullo!” Fred said, turning his attention away from them at once.

“Not troubling the first years?” she said, looking down at them. Ron nodded quickly, only to get cuffed across the back of the head by George.

“None of that!” she said. “Go on, shoo, go somewhere else, leave them alone. Go on! Before I take house points!”

George made a grab for some of the papers that hadn’t been reclaimed yet, but Hermione and Draco managed to gather them all up, shuffling them, but keeping them safe. Fred glared but they were shooed away by the prefect.

“Let me know if they give you more trouble, or better yet, tell Jamie,” the prefect said as she walked away, waving the twins in front of her. The twins glared over their shoulders at them, promising revenge.

“I hope they don’t give you trouble later,” Hermione said.

“You’d better keep all these papers, one of you,” Ron said. “They’ll take them from me, for sure.”

“Do we have anything else?” Draco asked, trying to sort the newspapers again.

“No, not a thing,” Ron said glumly. “There’s got to be something though.”

Hermione tapped her finger against the books in her lap. “Well…we could…”

“Could what?” Ron asked excitedly, clearly ready for whatever plan she’d come up with.

Hermione looked around. “Let’s go up to the library,” she said at last.

“Awwww,” Ron groaned loudly as Draco started to help Hermione with her books. “Not again! We’ve done nothing but library. It’s nice out here!”

“Come _on_, Ronald,” Hermione growled. 

Ron grumbled and groaned but gathered up his bag and trudged after them.

“We’re not going to the library,” Hermione whispered at the two of them. “We have to find a place where we can talk!”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Ron said and looked back and forth, but the hallways were crowded.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she looked around and led them up a flight of stairs. “I figured everyone would be outside,” she muttered. The hallways weren’t as crowded as the lawns and gardens, but they were still flooded with students who wanted to be out in the breeze and not in their common rooms.

“Common room is right out,” Ron mumbled and dashed up another flight of stairs.

“I could get you into mine, but I’m sure people are in there studying,” Hermione said as she followed him up the stairs, struggling with her bag. Draco shifted the pile of books in his arms and grabbed one of the handles to help her.

“We’ve got to look out for the twins,” Ron said, still muttering to himself.

“Don’t talk about them, they’ll show up,” Draco said as they struggled up another flight of stairs. They were finally drawing away from the bulk of the students, and after a few more flights they were finally alone.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been up here,” Draco said, looking back and forth as they started down the hallway.

“Are we allowed up here?” Hermione asked, hurrying after Ron.

“Let’s just walk back and forth! If we get caught up here, we can say we got lost!” Ron said, striding forward with determination.

“I don’t know if that will work,” Hermione said nervously. “That’s faulty logic.”

“It’s a good plan, isn’t it?” Ron said happily. “Ok, so what do we do now?”

“Can we write to the Ministry?” Draco asked.

“They won’t tell us anything,” Ron sighed. “My dad works there, and he told me they were dead, and we_ know_ they can’t be dead.”

“It doesn’t make much sense. No one saw them die, except maybe for Lefevre. Witnesses saw him fall down,” Hermione began.

“They can’t be dead!” Ron insisted.

“They somehow got mixed up with Dark Wizards. They were attacked at the Quidditch game.” Hermione shook her head and sighed.

“We need to get some articles on that,” Ron said.

“I found a few,” Hermione said, and shuffled through her bag, pulling some out and handing them over. “They were attacked then and in Hogsmeade.”

“They were really in deep,” Ron said as he and Draco glanced over the article.

“We heard rumors about this,” Draco said.

“Yeah, it was only two wizards. I heard it was ten,” Ron said.

“So the professors were hunting Dark Wizards, but why? Was it Lefevre? Did he make Evans do it to help him?” Hermione asked.

They all fell into silence again as they continued to shuffle along the corridor.

“Can we write to them?” Draco asked.

That made Hermione frown as she thought. “I bet we just can’t send an owl. If they’re hiding from Dark Wizards, they’ll have blocked regular owls.”

“We could send them a Howler, those always find you!” Ron said with feeling.

“Those are sent by owl,” Draco said.

“I bet we could find a charm to send them a letter, but…” Hermione flopped down on the floor and yanked one of the books out of Draco’s hands, nearly sending the rest tumbling.

“I saw a charm to send letters. I wanted to use it for my parents. They can’t get used to the owls,” Hermione said.

“You should’ve gotten one, if they’ll let you,” Draco said, struggling to stop the rest of the books from falling.

“Not all of us have our own owls, mate,” Ron said.

“They don’t like them flying through the windows or pecking on them. The neighbors notice,” Hermione said. “Here it is!” She pointed down at the page.

Draco peered over her shoulder. It was a charm that promised to send a letter to any recipient. 

“That looks old,” Draco said.

“It’s what they did before owls,” Hermione said. “The only real trouble is that to make it reliable, you need something of the other person’s. The research I’m doing suggested wizards exchange little mail trinkets first so the charms would work.” Hermione tapped the page. “No problem for my parents, of course, but for the professors…” Her voice trailed off.

“We’d need something of theirs,” Ron finished for her and started pacing back and forth again. “Their stuff might still be here, but we’d have to get into their rooms.”

“That’s surely against the rules,” Hermione said, watching him.

“They might need help!” Ron said. “What if they’re stuck somewhere with Dark Wizards?!”

“We can’t take on Dark Wizards!” Hermione said as she started to struggle to get to her feet, getting out from under a pile of books and articles.

“Was this door here before?” Ron said suddenly, pausing and staring straight ahead. Hermione and Draco turned, allowing a few newspapers to flutter to the floor.

In front of Ron, in what had been a plain paneled wall, there was now a thick oak door.

“I didn’t notice it before,” Hermione said and got to her feet. “I wonder what’s up here. A teacher’s room?”

“If it were teachers, they would’ve heard us!” Draco said and rushed to the door, pressing his ear to it. The wood was cool, but he didn’t hear anything beyond it.

“They’d put a charm on it so--” Hermione began as she tucked her hair behind her ears. Just then the door opened.

They all froze, staring at the now-open door.

“I didn’t do that!” Draco said, as Ron pushed in beside him and peered through.

“Huh, it’s just another hallway,” Ron said and pulled the door the rest of the way open. The long hallway stretched out ahead of them, with one door on the right, one on the left, and nothing else, no portraits, no suits of armor or any other decoration the children were used to seeing in the castle.

“They must be classrooms,” Hermione said. “Maybe for the seventh years.”

Ron marched into the hallway and pulled open a door, then stopped where he was and stared.

“What is it?” Draco asked and came up next to him.

The door didn’t open into a classroom, it opened into a bedroom. Draco looked around. The room was very small, the fireplace taking up most of the space. It looked spartan, like it had hardly been lived in. There was a bed with curtains, a wardrobe and one trunk. 

“Who sleeps up here?” Ron asked out loud and walked right in.

“Ron! Stop!” Hermione said. “This is someone’s _room_! We’ll be in so much trouble!”

“I go in Percy’s room all the time,” Ron said dismissively and flipped open the trunk. “That’s the Professor’s bag. Professor Lefevre!”

They all gathered around and sure enough the professor’s green and black Slytherin bag was on top. Underneath they could see his broom, cloak and gloves.

“We need something of his, right?” Ron said. “What luck! I thought they slept behind their offices!”

“Me too,” Draco said, excited.

Hermione bit her lip and hesitated before she joined them in pawing through the trunk.

There was a portable cauldron, three empty glass bottles, a white scarf with tiny silver dragons all over it, a packet of documents that turned out to be school papers, a letter from Draco’s parents that had been included with the gift of the winter cloak, a few other little gift notes from teachers, and a bundle of valentines, all from that year. A class book, class plans, and essays from the older students that hadn’t been graded yet, all neatly filed, and notes on Time Turners.

There was also a comb, bathrobe, some hair creams and a pair of slippers at the bottom, but nothing at all besides that.

“That’s it?” Draco said in disbelief. “Nothing from his school or any friends or anything?”

“Did he leave all that at home?” Hermione said as she looked over the papers. The top set was in French but there was a translation underneath it all. “No books or anything.”

“Time Turners?” Ron said as he squinted at the notes.

“It looks like he wanted to make one!” Hermione whispered. “That’s illegal!”

“You think he went back in time?” Ron whispered.

“It says here they’re only good for five hours,” Hermione said as she looked at the neat, pitched handwriting.

“We would’ve seen him five hours ago,” Ron said with a frown as he dug through the rest of the papers, then looked up, glancing around the room. “Not even a poster or anything.”

“Didn’t he like Quidditch?” Hermione asked. “There’s a French team, right?”

“At least two that I know,” Draco said.

“Maybe that’s why the Dark Wizards wanted them, if they were doing research on time travel,” Hermione said.

“That’s not important,” Ron said. “Get something of his and let’s go!”

“You weren’t worried about getting caught a moment ago!” Hermione said and snatched up the woolen scarf covered with little dragons. She folded it carefully and tucked it into her school bag and they slammed the trunk closed, hurrying out of the room again.

Ron rushed over to the second door and pushed it open. “This has to be Professor Evans’ room!” 

They all gathered around to peer inside. The room was a mess and looked more lived in than Lefevre’s for that reason. Evans’ robes were hanging from the posts of the bed, two shirts were on the floor. The wardrobe only had his winter cloak and boots and his broom was leaning in a corner. His trunk was empty with no letters, clothes, or supplies and wasn’t even locked.

“Not even family pictures!” Hermione said as she picked up Evans’ old glasses off the top of the trunk. “He’s also not very organized,” she said, disapprovingly. There was a pile of papers there, all notes about Riddle, Grindelwald, the war, and the Elder Wand and another artifact. There were also scattered and messy notes on time travel.

“Not a lot on classes either,” Draco said as they went through the parchments.

“He was over the moon about Qudditch too,” Ron said, “and not a single poster! Or anything! He said he’d been to a few games! Including a World Cup!”

“You’d think he'd have kept the tickets,” Hermione agreed.

“They can’t have both left it all at home, can they?” Draco said, digging through the rest of the papers, but coming up with nothing else.

“I thought his home was in America,” Hermione said, digging down through the rest of the mess before sighing and looking at the old, nearly broken glasses. She put them in her bag with the scarf.

“Let’s go, we’ve got what we need,” Draco said as he turned to peer out the door.

They all hurried out and into the main hallway, closing the big oaken door behind them.

“I still think it’s weird their rooms were up here,” Hermione said, frowning at the door and then gasping as it vanished.

They all looked at each other and Hermione clutched her bag.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ron said, clearly still unnerved. “We’ve got their things, so now we just write a letter.”

“Let’s write one for each of them,” Draco said. “I’ll go get a parchment and quill.”

“I’ve got some,” Hermione said, leading the way back to the stairwell.

~~

Sitting at his desk, Draco sorted through his letters. This was so much less work than grading but lacked something too. There had been something very satisfying about grading, annoying and boring as it could be. 

“I do not want to become a teacher,” he reminded himself as he picked up a letter from Blaise. He was just about to open it when he felt the tingle of a spell. He jumped back from his desk and drew his wand, wondering if the letter had been trapped, or perhaps it wasn’t from Blaise at all but from a Death Eater.

He had just raised a shield when a letter appeared on his desk with a flutter, pop and the slight smell of burning parchment. Frowning, he banished the shield and stepped forward.

The handwriting on the envelope was childish, but somehow familiar, and the corner was smoking slightly, but then he saw who the letter was addressed to.

_Professor Lefevre_

He sat down in shock and stared at the envelope for a long time. Who on earth had sent him a letter from the other timeline? It couldn’t have one of the other professors or Dumbledore, the handwriting was far too young, not to mention they would’ve addressed it to Cygnus. It dawned on him all at once. 

Breaking the seal, he was terrified, relieved, and heartsick to realize he’d been right.

The letter was from young Cygni Draco, Ron and Hermione. They seemed convinced that although everyone said Evans and Lefevre were dead, they were still alive and in hiding from Dark Wizards. The three begged them to send a letter back to let them know they were ok and didn’t need help.

Draco put the letter down carefully and stared at it for a few moments. Malfoys did not get emotional about beast-blooded, mudbloods, and muggle-loving little twits who’d somehow managed to send a letter across timelines.

He ran his hand over his face, ignoring the dampness there. It would only be kind to send a letter in return. The children had provided an excellent excuse and one that even matched with some events, that he and Evans were hiding from Dark Wizards.

It would be best to share this with Potter though and make certain that “Evans” had a hand in writing the letter as well, otherwise the children might try again to send a note. It was tempting to show this letter to his father as proof, but knowing Lucius, he would dismiss it as a hoax.

Finishing his other letters and sending them off, Draco went downstairs to have lunch with his mother, intending to take a broom ride afterwards since she was heading to London for some shopping. It was brave of her to try and be so normal after everything, especially since his father hadn’t been the same.

Lunch was normal and Draco was just fetching his cloak and broom to go flying when Tittles, his house elf, appeared with a letter.

“This just arrived for you, Master Draco. It’s marked urgent,” she said and handed it up.

Draco took it as his mother accepted her cloak from another house elf. 

“Thank you, Tittles,” he said, wondering who on earth would send him an urgent letter. One glance at the handwriting told him it was Potter. He broke the seal and opened it.

_Need to talk. Got a letter. Coming to your place. HP_

Draco raised his eyebrow, thankful he had some idea what kind of letter Potter had received. He folded Potter’s note and put it into his pocket.

“I won’t be home for dinner, please make certain your father has some. Eat with him if you have to,” Narcissa said, clasping her cloak over her shoulders.

“Of course,” Draco said, straightening his robes. “I’ll be going out for a fly, but I will make certain to come home for dinner.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa said gratefully and brushed her hand across his forehead, pushing back some hair. “Have a good flight.”

“Thank you, enjoy your shopping,” Draco said and opened the door for her, praying that she and Potter wouldn’t pass each other. He went back up to his study to contemplate his reply to the letter and what he and Potter would talk about.

Potter arrived within the hour, windblown, with red cheeks. He was pacing back and forth in the front room when Draco walked in. His hair was even messier than usual, but he was still wearing the nigh unbreakable gold glasses Draco had given him.

“Did you get a letter from the kids?” Harry asked before Draco could even bid him good afternoon.

“I did,” Draco said, glancing up at the portrait. The old man looked to be asleep, but one could never tell. Harry followed his glance but turned back to him.

“I assume you came to discuss what you want to write back,” Draco said.

“Oh, well, yes, that too,” Harry said, looking surprised.

“That too? What did you come to speak with me about?” Draco asked, trying not to allow himself to consider that Potter might’ve come just to see him. That would be nice, far too nice. He drew himself up, driving the thought away.

“Hermione saw the letter show up. She was having breakfast with me when it appeared,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his head and sighing.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Why is that relevant?” He tried to imagine what the mudblood would think of the letter, though all he could think was that she would finally believe their story. The thought made him smug. It managed to drive out the rather sad thought that Harry hadn’t just come out to visit to ask him to go flying again.

“She took it to the ministry,” Harry said.

“What? Why?” Draco demanded. His heart dropped at any mention of the ministry. The last thing Draco wanted was the involvement of the ministry.

“Sideways Turning, she didn’t believe me-”

“Yes, I recall,” Draco interrupted bitterly.

“The problem is now the ministry is going to get involved and we don’t know _how_ to send a letter back to them. I don’t know how they sent us letters in the first place, do you?” Harry said.

Draco considered that for a moment. He’d let his emotions get the better of him in this case and he quietly scolded himself for it. “No, I hadn’t considered the charm required.”

“It can’t be that complicated, eleven-year olds did it,” Harry said, running his hand through his hair, messing it up worse.

“I recall some of the charms we cast when we were eleven were quite complex.”

“Shit,” Harry sighed, then he perked. “No, no, that's good, no one will believe the letters. They’re clearly from kids and what kids could do that charm, right?”

Draco considered that for a moment. “The ministry could be convinced of that,” he said slowly. The ministry was just stupid enough to discount children, even Hogwarts-educated children. “That only leaves us with where the letters came from.”

“Hoax. Someone pranking me, you know, because I’m-- me,” Harry said quickly.

“That’s a ridiculous explanation,” Draco said incredulously.

“Great, isn’t it?” Harry said with a far too endearing grin.

Draco pursed his lips, loathe to admit that Harry was right. “We need to research charms and quickly, before they send us any more letters.”

Harry’s eyes got wide. “They would, wouldn’t they, they would until we respond and tell them we’re ok.”

“I assume we shall tell them that we are in hiding and cannot write,” Draco said.

“Seems cruel,” Harry muttered, frowning.

“It’s not cruel. We’re going to write them back and tell them we’re alive and simply unable to continue further correspondence,” Draco said, and folded his hands. 

Harry sighed. “Ok, yeah.”

Draco nodded firmly. “Shall we go up to my study then?”

Harry gave him a crooked smile and followed him up the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

“Anything yet?” Ron hurried up to Draco in the hallway as they changed classes. The hallways were loud and full of students rushing past. The portraits on the walls sighed, muttered, and shouted about the noise.

“No, wouldn’t it come to Hermione though?” Draco said in a hushed voice.

“Maybe they can’t write!” Ron said, as if he hadn’t heard over the din. “Maybe they really need help!”

“You’re not listening,” Draco hissed. “Hermione cast the charm, so wouldn’t it come to her?”

“Oh, right. Let’s find her, fast!” Ron said and pushed through the hordes of students. “What class did she have?”

“Potions!” Draco said, catching Ron’s arm to stop him from going upstairs, and led him down towards the dungeons.

“Same as this morning! No!” Hermione said when she saw them hurrying in her direction.

“How did you know what I was going to ask?” Ron demanded, still wheezing from their run.

“Because you’ve asked me the same thing after every class today and at breakfast and lunch!” she said, hoisting her bag and her armload of books. “I’ve got an idea though; I’ll tell you after dinner!”

“Tell us now!” Ron demanded.

“Not enough time! I’ll be late for Charms!” she said, pushing past them. “Meet me after dinner!” 

Ron tried to rush after her, but Draco grabbed him. “Don’t be late for class!” he said and hurried away to get to his own class.

“What’s the idea?” Ron asked, stuffing his mouth with the last of his dinner as he rushed over to the Ravenclaw table. Draco was already sliding into a seat left by another Ravenclaw, who gave them both a long stare before he left.

“They _can’t_ write back,” Hermione whispered, trying to keep her voice low despite the chatter around them. “They don’t have something of ours! We forgot to put that in the letter.”

Ron and Draco looked at each other. 

“Oh,” Ron said. Draco couldn’t tell if he was disappointed that it didn’t have anything to do with the Dark Wizards.

“That means we just send another letter,” Draco said as the plates and leftover food started to vanish. “We can do that, right?”

Hermione nodded briskly. “Come on!” She got her bag and hurried away from the table. Ron and Draco followed her up the stairs. The hallways were all crowded with students heading to their favorite places to hang out for the evening.

“What do we send?” Draco asked as they hurried along, dodging other students.

“Something small and light,” Hermione said. “The charm is hard enough with just parchment.”

“You mean you don’t know what we should send?” Ron asked.

“I can’t think of _everything_,” Hermione said, exasperated.

They got up to the top floor hallway and set down their bags. Hermione yanked out several parchments, two blank lengths for their letters and her notes. The hallway was quiet with few portraits along the walls, and most of those were still as their occupants dozed.

“How about chocolate frog cards?” Ron said as he flopped down onto the floor. “Those are small.”

“That might work, but those are enchanted already. We might need something non-magical,” she said as she looked over her notes. “It has to be something connected with you. I’m worried chocolate frog cards won’t work because everyone has them.”

“They can have my homework,” Ron said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“How about my feathers?” Draco suggested. “I’ve got some that I’ve saved.” He’d wanted to give Professor Lefevre one of his feathers made into a good luck charm or a quill, but he’d planned to wait until he could brew a luck potion to dip it in. Not to mention waiting until his pin feathers fell out on their own and were even long enough to use as a quill. 

“That’s a great idea! Are you sure you don’t mind?” Hermione said excitedly.

“I don’t mind. I’ll go get them. You guys write the letters and get it all ready,” Draco said and leapt to his feet.

“I’ll include the charm as well. I bet they don’t know about it,” Hermione said. “Everyone uses owls.”

“Hurry up and don’t get caught by Fred and George!” Ron told Draco.

Draco nodded and dashed down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“I wish we could find that room again,” Hermione said, looking up and down the hallway. “I don’t want to get caught up here.”

“I’ve had enough of vanishing doors,” Ron muttered.

~~

Harry leaned forward in the chair next to Draco, paging through one of a dozen books on charms that Draco had taken down from the shelves of his library. It was a strange feeling to be working on a puzzle with Potter instead of Evans; though the two were one and the same, it felt different. Draco found he liked it more, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Harry sitting next to him poring over a book made him feel altogether too warm.

As it turned out, there were dozens of charms for sending letters. Draco found everything from passing notes in class to secure spells to send a letter without an owl, including several old charms. The only caveat was the sender needed the exact location of the recipient or, even better, something that belonged to that person to focus the spell.

“I guess this means we’re stuck,” Harry said, sliding down in his chair.

“No, we simply do not have the proper answer,” Draco said. He would not be outdone by eleven-year-olds.

Just then Tittles appeared, tugging on her bright green napkin. “Master, the Ministry is coming. They’re passing the gates.”

“What do they want?” Harry asked.

“Probably to search the Manor again,” Draco said, not bothering to hide his irritation. “Thank you, Tittles, show them in.” He picked up the letter and tucked it into his breast pocket. These surprise “inspections” were frustrating at best. He was glad he was home, though, and not out flying as he’d wanted to be, because that would’ve left his father to deal with the Ministry and Lucius was in no state to do that. 

“Again?” Harry said, standing along with Draco. “They come a lot? They’re not supposed to! You’ve been pardoned.”

“I have, but that hasn’t stopped them yet,” Draco said, and walked out of his study and down the hallway with Harry on his heels. He didn’t know what the Ministry would do when they saw Potter here; perhaps they would go away.

“No, that’s too much to hope for,” he thought to himself as he passed into the front room and found it full of hideously purple- and gold-robed wizards. The portrait over the mantle had pointedly turned away as if the garish combination were too much for him.

“Good afternoon,” Draco said, forcing his voice to be as pleasant as possible. “What can I do for you?”

The two wizards and one witch turned. The first wizard looked unbearably smug for a moment, his nose high in the air as he started to speak, and then he caught sight of Harry. 

Harry was standing so close to Draco’s shoulder that Draco could feel the heat from his body. It was comforting in a way Draco knew it shouldn’t have been.

“What are you lot doing here?” Harry asked before they could speak. “This better not be a search. The Malfoys were pardoned.”

“Oh, Mr. Potter.” The second wizard, dressed in a hideously bright purple suit, bobbed his head. “It’s a bit surprising to see you here.”

“Is it?” Harry said, stepping around in front of Draco. “I’m more surprised to see you.” He crossed his arms. “Why are _you_ here?”

“May I offer anyone tea?” Draco asked, enjoying every moment of their discomfort.

“Uh, no, thank you,” the witch muttered. She was dressed in an acceptable lavender color at least, though the gold border on the suit was a bit too bright and flashy for Draco’s tastes.

“No, no inspection,” the first wizard said, not sounding convincing at all. “We’ve just arrived to see if Mr. Malfoy has received any suspicious letters.”

“You didn’t have to come all the way out here to ask that,” Harry said. “And what does it matter what letters he gets?”

“I’m ever delighted to cooperate,” Draco said quickly. He was enjoying Harry’s defense immensely, but the last thing he wanted was for the Ministry to leave unsatisfied and return when Harry wasn’t present. “But no strange letters, just letters from friends.”

“Oh, is that so,” the first wizard said, looking as if he was going to counter that.

“You’re not here about that stupid hoax letter I got, are you?” Harry said quickly, arms still crossed over his chest. The portrait over the mantle sat up a bit, shifting as if interested in their conversation.

“Hoax?” The second wizard asked.

“Yeah, just some dumb fan or something,” Harry said with a shrug. “Nothing important. That kind of thing happens all the time.”

“But it didn’t arrive by owl,” the first wizard said.

Harry shrugged again. “I get plenty of things that don’t come by owl. And Draco always uses owls.”

“Yes, always.” Draco was impressed. He didn’t know if it was a lie or not, but it was amusing to watch Harry stand up to the Ministry and lie with a straight face. Draco wouldn’t have assumed Harry would have it in him.

“May we have a look through your letters, Mr.-” the first wizard began.

“No,” Harry interrupted. “No, you may not. I’m not going to allow that.”

“If he hasn’t gotten any-” the first wizard stammered.

“It doesn’t matter. His letters are his own and not yours,” Harry said firmly. “I wonder what the Minister would think to know you’re wasting time and Ministry resources on someone who’s been pardoned already, instead of investigating all the other problems you have.”

Draco kept his face neutral, but it was hard not to let it break into a smug grin. This was lovely. He was going to have to invite Harry over more often- though to be fair, he hadn’t invited him this time.

“If you want to look at his letters, that’s a surprise inspection, and I think you’ve already done the one you’re allowed,” Harry continued. “I bet if I look at the records you’ve already done more than you’re allowed.”

The portrait shifted again, and Draco could see other pictures trying to ease into the frame. This was the first time the Ministry had been turned away since the war. Draco was relishing every moment of their discomfort.

The witch and wizards glanced at each other and Draco watched them trying to decide if they were going to try to fight Potter on this. If he were them, he would’ve left and come back later, possibly tomorrow, when Potter wouldn’t be here. Draco mentally prepared for just that, considering where to hide the letter in the meantime. It would probably be fine inside the pocket of his robes.

“If Mr. Malfoy hasn’t received any strange letters than we have nothing to worry about,” the witch said. The two wizards deflated but nodded.

“Yes,” the first said, though he gave Draco a look that promised he’d return.

“If you do receive any suspicious letters, please report them,” the second wizard said as they all turned as a group to go.

“Yes, of course,” Draco said pleasantly and showed them out the front door. They all murmured good evenings that just bordered on rude as Draco flourished them a bow.

“They’ll be back,” Harry said once the door was safely closed.

“Oh yes, tomorrow most likely,” Draco said.

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Harry muttered.

Draco smiled without meaning to. It would be nice to have Harry over tomorrow. “That is most kind of you.” 

He was about to continue when the sharp taste of magic cut through the air. Harry and Draco both jumped backwards as an envelope appeared midair and dropped to the floor, smoking slightly.

They both stared at it for a moment, and then a second appeared and also dropped to the floor.

“More?” Harry said, putting his wand away and stepping forward to scoop both off the floor.

“That was rather too close,” Draco said as he put his own wand away; he’d drawn it so fast he didn’t even recall doing it. He was relieved that this had happened now rather than five minutes earlier. He shuddered to think of the trouble it would’ve caused if the letters had appeared right in front of the Ministry wizards.

“Those kids are really worried,” Harry said, handing him one of the envelopes that was again addressed to Professor Lefevre.

Draco tried his best to ignore the warmth coiling through his stomach as he carefully took the letter. Harry tore his open and a snow-white feather fell out and onto the floor.

“What’s this?” he said and bent to pick it up.

Draco opened his own much more carefully and found that his letter also included a large, white feather. It looked like the pin feather from a swan, and a quick glance at the letter proved it just that.

“It’s one of the young Draco’s feathers,” Draco said, trying his best to keep the fondness out of his voice. He wasn’t entirely successful.

“Hey, they included the charm!” Harry said, putting out the smoldering edge of his letter.

Draco frowned. Leave it to Hermione to be a pretentious little git no matter what the timeline, but it did save them from doing more research. This would enable them to write back and be done with it, though with one of the feathers it would’ve been easy to continue the correspondence.

No, he told himself as he read the letter carefully, doing his best to curb his annoyance at the careful and rather simplistic description of the charm they’d used. No, it was best if he and Harry only wrote one letter. There was always the risk of someone else seeing the letter appear if they kept up an active correspondence.

“We shall have to write them back quickly,” Draco said. “They are clearly impatient.”

“They’re worried. Everyone’s telling them we’re dead,” Harry said.

“That’s interesting isn’t it, that means someone saw at least part of our duel,” Draco said. He remembered those moments with a shudder. If they’d seen him get stabbed, it would make a certain amount of sense that they would report him as dead, but not Evans. Evans should’ve just been reported as missing.

“I didn’t really think about it, but you’re right,” Harry said, holding the parchment in one hand and the feather in the other. “We’d sure be missing, but not dead.”

“Not shocking considering You-Know-Who was involved. He wasn’t known for leaving people alive,” Draco murmured. 

“He’s dead now, you can say his name,” Harry said.

“Shall we go and write these letters with the understanding that we tell them we are in hiding and they need not worry?” Draco said, changing the subject quickly. He’d rather never say that name again. To utter it out loud was like inviting him back.

Harry considered that, tilting his head to one side in a way that made Draco want to kiss him, or at least stroke his already messy hair.

“Yeah, guess we shouldn’t tell them the truth,” Harry said.

“No, they would hardly be believed. Your friends didn’t believe you,” Draco said.

Harry sighed. “Yeah.”

Draco peered at the clock; it was getting late. “We should write that letter, so you won’t have to fly home in the dark. I’ll have to go flying tomorrow.”

“We could go on a night flight,” Harry said. “It doesn’t take that long to get to the coast from here.”

Draco tilted his head. “Did you enjoy flying that much?” He started towards the stairs. “The stars do look beautiful over the ocean at night,” he said wistfully as he climbed the stairs.

“Let’s go flying,” Harry said, coming up next to him on the wide staircase. “We can write this letter, charm it now that we know how, and go flying.”

Draco considered that. “I did promise Mother I would check on Father, but after that, yes, I would like to go flying.”

Harry gave him a wide smile, the kind of smile that made Draco’s legs tremble just a bit. “Great.” 

~~

The children huddled around Hermione’s bag on the seventh floor, staring down where the letters had been.

“How long do you think it will take?” Ron asked.

“We really shouldn’t expect anything until tomorrow at least,” Hermione said, but she was staring down at the empty space expectantly.

“Let’s wait just a bit,” Draco said. “Maybe they’ll write as soon as they have the feathers.”

“We have time before curfew,” Hermione agreed.

They sat in silence long enough for Ron to get bored and start going through the chocolate frog cards that he had in his pocket. He muttered about how they should make new ones for the two professors. Draco peered over, ready to agree and wishing he had his own cards, when there was a sudden swirl of magic.

He snapped his head around to see an envelope appear in front of him and then fall to the floor at his knees. A whole host of emotions ran through him all at once, relief making him as dizzy as the first time he’d transformed in Professor Lefevre’s office.

_Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

“They wrote back!” Hermione squealed as she snatched up the envelope and hurried to open it, breaking the emerald wax seal. Draco vaguely noticed that the seal was a large, elaborate M, but was too distracted to think anything of it.

“They’re not dead!” Ron said, almost grabbing it out of Hermione’s hands, but she was fast enough to avoid it.

“We can all read it together!” she said.

“Well, hurry up!” Ron said.

It was a short letter that assured them that both professors were alive and well. They were, in fact, hiding from Dark Wizards and wouldn’t be able to write for their own safety, as well as the safety of the children. 

Hermione’s hands were shaking by the time Draco’s eyes had reached the last lines.

“They’re alive!” she sobbed, and dropped the letter to cover her face. Draco fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief and Ron snatched up the letter.

“Now we know they’re all right!” Ron said, scrubbing his eyes. “This is great!”

“We have to keep it a secret, though,” Draco said, glancing down at the letter as he handed Hermione his handkerchief. His heart was beating so hard with excitement and relief it was rattling his whole body. He wished he could transform and sing like his mother would.

“That’s easy!” Ron said. “No one will believe us anyway, unless we show them the letter.”

“And we shouldn’t! They’re hiding from Dark Wizards; we’ve got to keep them safe!” Hermione said, still sobbing.

“Yeah, they trust us!” Ron said, reading the letter over again.

“It’s sad, though,” Draco said as he patted Hermione’s arm and leaned to read over Ron’s shoulder. “They have to hide from Dark Wizards, and everyone has to think they’re dead.”

“They might go to America. They’ll be safe there,” Ron said. “It is sad that we can’t write to them though.”

“Maybe they’ll write again someday!” Draco said as Hermione sobbed a little louder.

“Don’t cry, Hermione,” Ron said. “They’re safe.”

“I know, I’m just so happy,” she wailed.

“You cry when you’re happy?” Ron asked.

“Don’t be foolish, Ron, of course people cry when they’re happy,” she said, dabbing her face and hiccupping.

“Who should keep the letter?” Draco asked, deciding not to point out that Ron’s eyes were wet too.

“Not me! My brothers will find it for sure!” Ron said, scrubbing his face again. “They’re always stealing my frog cards.”

“I can keep it,” Hermione said. “With Professor Lefevre’s scarf and Professor Evans’ glasses.”

Draco nodded, knowing if he kept it, he’d be too tempted to try the charm to send them another letter. “That’s a good idea. No one will go through your stuff.”

“Maybe we can send another letter, someday!” Ron said quickly. “Not now.”

“Someday,” Hermione agreed, sniffling. “We’ll want to check up on them, after all.”


End file.
